There is a confraternity of restaurants which brings together
those which share certain characteristics. Their waiters, if they are settled
into their jobs, will know the places where they will feel comfortable dropping
in for a meal on their day off. True to form, one of the waiters at my old
favorite, L'Ecurie, had recommended a near-by bistro at the south end of the
Latin Quarter. "It is good value," he assured me, "good food
and very reasonable."

True
to its name, Au Bon Coin was located at the T-junction of rue de la Collegiale
and rue du Petit-Moine, just off the avenue des Gobelins. A Henry James reader
would call it The Jolly Corner, particularly on an unseasonably warm day in
late October. At lunchtime the sun was shining brightly on the north side
where a few small tables had been set along the sidewalk. One was already
occupied by two women with a baby carriage; at another, bare of cloth or cutlery,
a couple of local lads were having a beer and a cig. Not a tourist in sight
- you won't find it in a single Paris restaurant guide, not even Pudlo. (If I had a column
in an influential periodical, I'd think twice about blowing its cover.)

There was one free table set for lunch and I promptly took it. I chose from
among the day's specials: first, a salad of lettuce, potato, chicken and endive;
and then - quite outstanding - generous hunks of tender venison sautéed
with mushrooms, carrots, leeks and herbs and served with a rich purée
of potato, carrot and cream. A glass of Gewurtztraminer brought the bill to
just over 100ff.

Indoors,
the restaurant was filling up with regular customers who were being greeted
by name at the door and warmly embraced. Before I left I stepped inside to
have a look. There was the atmosphere of a private party rather than a public
dining room. Like L'Ecurie, every available space was taken up with some relic
or momento or curiosity - the bistro's busy life set out in curious fragments
which could keep an archaeologist working for a lifetime. Long may it prosper.